


Recreational Yelling

by neversaydie



Series: Steve and Bucky are Fucking Weird (aka Sam Needs Better Friends: A Series) [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Abuse of Breakfast Foods, Bickering, Bucky Barnes: Science Nerd, Bucky can't cook, Idiots in Love, M/M, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Sam Is So Done, Sam Wilson deserves better, Snark, Steve Rogers: Bad Catholic, Steve and Bucky are fucking weird, Weirdness, arguing as foreplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-20
Updated: 2016-03-20
Packaged: 2018-05-27 22:37:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6302905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neversaydie/pseuds/neversaydie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You're not asking Tony to upgrade the dishwasher. No lasers in my kitchen."</p>
<p>"I'm sorry, your kitchen? Who the fuck's the one burning everything left right and centre here?"</p>
<p>"I'm distracted by your trauma."</p>
<p>"Hey, you don't get to use my trauma as an excuse. Use your own."</p>
<p>"I don't think you're supposed to use your trauma to get out of making your own damn breakfast."</p>
<p>"I feel victimised. By your shitty attitude and your shitty cooking."</p>
<p>"Yeah? Go tell the internet."</p>
<p>"I can see the headlines. Captain America: Huge Bully and Shitty Cook."</p>
<p>[in which Bucky and Steve are fucking weird and the whole team knows it.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Recreational Yelling

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Покричи на меня](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6397627) by [Oblako](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oblako/pseuds/Oblako)



> Dedicated to cabloom's frostbitten ass. RIP.

"Your Ma would be rolling in her grave if she saw what you're doing to that bread. 'Look after my boy', she said. Not 'let him shove charcoal into his face because he's a moron'."

"Excuse me for not warming up bread for ten seconds and calling it toast."

"Just because I like it pale as your ungrateful Irish ass—"

"How the fuck am I supposed to eat eggs on soft bread, asshole?"

"I made you perfectly serviceable toast and you went and burned the hell outta it. What about the carcinogens, Steve? Those things give you cancer, I saw it on Buzzfeed."

"I can't get cancer."

"So let's just shove a bunch of coal in your face and check. Sounds suspiciously like the time you—Are you not even gonna put butter on that?"

"I don't like the spread stuff you keep getting."

"It's superior. It's been _designed_ by _science_. Although I guess you were designed by science and look how that turned out."

"It tastes like feet. I think they burned out your tastebuds along with your memory."

"My _trauma_. You're gonna trigger my trauma. Burning that poor fuckin' bread like they burned my poor fuckin'—"

"Do you want eggs?"

"Yeah, I'll take 'em scrambled."

"Like your brains."

"My _trauma_ , Steve. I'm officially triggered."

"You can make your own fuckin' warm bread and scientific foot spread to go with it. It'll be therapeutic."

"You said that about the dishes too and y'know what? I don't feel any better."

"Better than shooting people."

"I'm reporting you to the internet for stamping on my coping mechanisms."

"Murder isn't a coping mechanism. Just like warm bread ain't toast."

"Look, just because you _can_ shove a load of burnt shit in your face it doesn't mean you should. I mean, I _could_ use this high-tech science-designed spread as lube, probably, but that doesn't mean—"

"Food isn't lube."

" _Science_ food could be."

"You and Tony aren't allowed to hang out anymore."

"They make edible lube now, I checked."

"Why?"

"I wanted to see if it came in pineapple."

"Huh. Does it?"

"Apparently. Now, see, you're fuckin' up my eggs. How the fuck can you eat burnt toast and rubber eggs in good conscience, Rogers? Back in my day—"

"You're twenty-seven. I'm older than you."

"Back in _my day_ , we took care of how we prepared food because there wasn't a second portion coming if you fucked up the first one. And we thanked the good Lord Jesus for our meagre meal before we—"

"You burned water. You literally defied physics, is how bad a cook you were."

"You would've thanked the good Lord Jesus for my burnt water back in the day. And to be fair, it didn't _burn_ , it just boiled down to nothing because I seem to remember _someone_ was distracting me."

"You boiled potatoes once and forgot to put them in the water. Nobody was sucking your dick that time, what's your excuse?"

"I don't remember that happening. My poor fried brain seems to have lost that memory."

"Convenient all the memories you 'lost' are the ones where you're a goof."

"I can't control my trauma, Steve. Don't make it worse by piling on the guilt, I ain't been to confession since—"

"You ain't been to confession since you were eight. You've never been nothing but a confirmed sinner."

"So you're saying I _deserved_ the trauma, is that it?"

"Yeah, Buck. You're a bad cook and a confirmed sinner and you deserved the steaming heap of bullshit that's the last seventy years. That's exactly what I'm saying."

"At least you're honest. Take those fuckin' eggs off the heat before you— See? Now I'm gonna be scrubbing that pan for a fuckin' hour trying to get the burnt bits off."

"We have a dishwasher, why don't you just use that you moron? I thought you were all about _science_?"

"Eh, I don't trust it. Last time I tried to run that thing it all went to shit."

"You put dish soap in it instead of the tablet."

"It's soap for dishes, what's the issue? And why the fuck does it need salt? That's not science, that's some medieval bullshit. I think it's an out of date model."

"You're not asking Tony to upgrade it. No lasers in my kitchen."

"I'm sorry, _your_ kitchen? Who the fuck's the one burning everything left right and centre here?"

"I'm distracted by your trauma."

"Hey, you don't get to use my trauma as an excuse. Use your own."

"I don't think you're supposed to use your trauma to get out of making your own damn breakfast."

"I feel victimised. By your shitty attitude _and_ your shitty cooking."

"Yeah? Go tell the internet."

"I can see the headlines. Captain America: Huge Bully and Shitty Cook."

"Mind your fuckin' fingers, that's hot."

"Suck my dick, I can pick up eggs if I want."

"Use a fork, dumbass. Were you raised in a barn?"

"My memory's on the fritz, which one's the fork again? I guess I'll just have to use my fingers."

"They definitely made you dumber with that brain frying shit."

"I'm not the one _willingly_ eating rubber off coal. I think you have some repressed issues you need to work through, Stevie."

"I'm gonna repress some issues on you in a minute if you don't shut your trap."

They wander through to the living room with their plates of food, still bickering, and Clint and Sam exchange a look. They've been sitting at the kitchen table since before Bucky woke up and stomped into the kitchen to start yelling at Steve about toast, and they're both pretty sure the pair of them have forgotten their friends are even there.

"Are they always like this?" Clint raises his eyebrows as the volume of yelling from the living room increases ( _I did NOT break the couch that was one time and technically your dick was in me!_ ). Sam just sighs heavily and nods, turning the page of his newspaper because it's way too early for this shit.

"Yep. Recreational yelling is their thing."

"Weird."

"I know."

"So, uh." Clint looks pointedly at the stove where the pan of eggs is smoking suspiciously. "Who's gonna tell them they left the stove on?"

"Just let them figure it out when the place burns down. I'm sure as hell not going in there." Sam shakes his head as the sounds from next door start turning suspiciously non-argumentative and more like they're enjoying their breakfast _way_ too much. "Those weirdos can deal with it themselves."


End file.
